"All done?"
Zhang Yichen's voice sounded deliberately casual, though his eyes couldn't help flick to the side.
"Mm." Chen Xiaoxi gave a soft reply.
Maybe to ease the awkwardness—or maybe just to let her hair dry—she didn't head straight to bed. Instead, she settled back onto the sofa, sheet music in hand, flipping through it quietly.
"Uh… shouldn't you dry your hair first?"
Zhang Yichen didn't dare look at her directly. It felt like if he stared too long, he might never be able to look away.
"No need. The baby just fell asleep—we don't want to wake him."
Her slender fingers turned the pages with lazy grace. The faint rustle of paper carried a hidden rhythm, like some unspoken emotion whispering through the silence.
The air itself carried a faint fragrance—partly the scent of her shampoo, partly something uniquely hers. It drifted into Zhang Yichen's senses, leaving his heart in quiet turmoil.
He had originally planned to talk to her about the comeback plan he'd prepared.
But right now… the atmosphere didn't feel right for business talk.
"How about… a glass of milk? Helps with sleep."
After a long pause, he broke the heavy silence with the suggestion.
"Sure."
This little man… he's actually pretty thoughtful.
Chen Xiaoxi smiled faintly. It was tinged with fatigue, but there was warmth in it too.
Almost fleeing into the kitchen, Zhang Yichen clumsily rummaged for the carton of milk.
Calm down. It's just an ordinary moment.
He pressed a hand against his pounding chest, silently lecturing himself.
"Phew…"
Once the milk was warmed, he poured it into a glass, took a deep breath, and returned to the room as if marching to an execution. He handed it over with stiff hands.
"Here."
"Thanks."
Her fingertips brushed his as she accepted the glass. The fleeting warmth froze them both for half a second before they pulled back like nothing had happened.
"Uh—I'm going to shower!"
Face slightly flushed, Zhang Yichen bolted toward the bathroom like a thief caught red-handed.
"Heh… this little man is actually shy."
Watching his panicked retreat, Chen Xiaoxi's smile deepened.
But… how could a boy this shy write songs filled with such deep, passionate emotion?
Her gaze drifted back to the stack of sheet music on the table. She had already read through nearly thirty of them.
Out of those thirty, at least seven or eight were love songs—each one full of raw, heartfelt feeling.
What shocked her most was that every single one of those songs was a potential hit.
Could it be… all one hundred plus of them were golden tracks?
The thought made her lips part in disbelief.
She set her cup aside and flipped to another page.
"A Songs."
Cantonese? And a classic hit at that.
She frowned slightly, then turned another.
"My Country."
A patriotic anthem, filled with heroic sorrow. Another undeniable classic.
She flipped again.
"Bless."
"Eh? I love this one!"
Unsurprisingly, another hit.
"Feeling?"
A moving song about family. Another masterpiece.
Still not convinced, she flipped to the very last page.
"Dazzling Folk Star."
Her brows furrowed.
Folk…? The name sounded a bit tacky.
"What are you reading?"
The bathroom door swung open. Zhang Yichen stepped out in shorts, droplets still clinging to his skin.
"Sheet music."
Chen Xiaoxi glanced up—and froze.
He was tall, nearly 183 centimeters, with sharp features, fair skin, and muscles that looked like they could explode with power.
Before, she hadn't dared look closely.
Now, fresh from the shower, his body was laid bare before her eyes.
"Like what you see?"
Noticing her dazed expression, Zhang Yichen's lips curved upward.
He'd been looked at before, of course, but he had always remained calm, unmoved.
Yet for some reason, her gaze filled him with a strange, secret satisfaction.
He wanted to tease her a little.
"Yes."
The answer slipped from her lips before she could think.
"Then look all you want."
His grin widened.
"Ah? No, no… I meant the sheet music!"
Her face burned red. She quickly ducked her head and flipped the pages furiously, as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
What was she doing, staring at a man's chest like that…?
Desperate to change the subject, she raised a score in her hand.
"This one—Dazzling Folk Star—why did you write something like this? It feels so… ordinary."
"Ordinary songs are the ones that spread the fastest." Zhang Yichen sat down beside her, still towel-drying his hair.
"All of these… you wrote them yourself?"
"Yeah. Just something I tinker with when I'm bored."
"Bored?" Her brow arched, a mix of disbelief and amazement in her tone. "Do you even realize any one of these could take over the charts?"
"Maybe."
He shrugged, expression calm, eyes carrying a quiet detachment.
"Maybe?"
Her eyes searched his, as if trying to see through the nonchalance.
"By the way," he cut in, smoothly changing the topic. "The accounts you use on music platforms—are they all under your name?"
"They're personal. Why? You want to use them?"
"Mm." He nodded. "If you're not too tired, let's talk about your comeback plan."
Her eyes lit slightly. "Go on."
"I only have two million right now. I plan to use it to start a digital company. I'll bind your comeback to the launch of Amuse. That way, we'll save a ton on promotion."
"As compensation, I'll give you ten songs. Enough for a hit album—one that could push you to the level of a queen of singing again."
"But the digital release has to debut on Amuse. You'll help draw traffic. For other platforms, you can only upload one song for now."
"The story we'll use is simple: you hit a bottleneck, suffered mild depression, and spent a year in seclusion until you finally created a body of work you're proud of. If they want the full album, they'll have to download Amuse."
"The office space—I can lock that down tomorrow. Recording studio, one week to renovate. Everything else within a month."
"As for you—rest this week, get familiar with the songs. Next week, start recording. Let's aim to finish the album in half a month."
"For now, I won't line up gigs or endorsements. You can take your time finding a manager and assistant. So… any objections to this plan?"
When he spoke of business, Zhang Yichen's words were firm, his eyes shining with confidence.
Something stirred in Chen Xiaoxi's chest—a subtle warmth she couldn't quite name.
After a dazed pause, she shook her head softly. "No objections. Your plan is solid."
She had been considering singing at a bar for income.
But now, with his detailed arrangements, why would she bother with such a messy place?
Living off Zhang Yichen's support… wasn't that much better?
"Wait… but we don't have musicians." The thought struck her suddenly.
"Musicians? We won't need them."
He smirked, eyes glinting with quiet confidence.
"No need? Without a band, how are we going to record?"